


You Caught Me By Surprise

by shutterbugtraveler



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Dialogue Heavy, Doctor/Patient, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-23 09:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutterbugtraveler/pseuds/shutterbugtraveler
Summary: "You're really pretty," Scott gives her a toothy grin, his speech slow and deliberate. "Like, you're really pretty for a doctor," he continues, stealing a glimpse of her name on her work tag - Hope Van Dyne.A doctor/patient AU where Scott has a crush on the prettiest doctor he has ever seen.





	You Caught Me By Surprise

"I'm perfectly fine," the man drawls lazily, loud enough for Hope to hear him through the drawn curtains next to the room where she had just finished attending to a patient. She would have thought twice before peeking through the curtains if she knew what she was getting into. 

Surveying the situation, all she sees is a clearly flustered Peter Parker, the one month old intern, trying hard not to lose his cool while attending to his patient - a man with wet, dark fluffy hair, seemingly fine, wrapped in a warming blanket, who can't seem to keep his mouth shut.

"You're a doctor kid?" the man squints, as if he's having a headache. "Like Doogie Howser? You know, that TV show?" 

Peter nods but is completely lost at the reference, only keeping his attention to the man's face. 

"Because you look really, _really_ young. But, but good for you kid," the man reaches out and squeezes Peter's shoulders, who is getting more and more beet red by the second. 

Hope raises a single eyebrow, coming to a conclusion that the man would probably be their first difficult patient of the night. She clears her throat, enough to draw Peter's attention as she slips into the room. "I'll take it from here Peter, thank you," she winks at him, deciding to save her mentee from the ordeal. 

Peter casts her an appreciative smile before sliding quietly out from the room. Hope's gaze flicker to the patient, eyeing him from head to toe, giving him a quick assessment. There seems to be nothing wrong with him, except for a bleeding gash across his eyebrow, and the slurring of his speech which she had picked on earlier. Judging from the way he is shifting restlessly on the bed, she rules out the possibility of him having a stroke.

Though, he is clearly drunk, Hope deduces, by his inability to focus, his glazed over eyes and how he reeks of alcohol.

"Are you my doctor?" 

"Yes," Hope nods and sits on a chair opposite him. She hears a string of incoherent ramblings, something about a party at Vistacorp, as she flips through his chart. 

"Is this, is this ketchup?" Warm fluid trickles down his eyelid. 

Hope looks up from the chart, "Mr. Lang!" she gasps. 

Before Hope can stop him, he's already rubbing it off, unperturbed, and licks his blood-stained fingers. "Uh, no, it's salty," and a silly grin animates his lips. 

Hope tries hard to refrain herself from giving him an impressive eye roll, though she's seen a fair share of drunks to know that they wouldn't remember if she actually did. 

With a sigh, Hope puts on a pair of gloves and starts by disinfecting the site of injury with an antiseptic wipe. There are hisses of pain, and then he falls silent, with occasional grimaces when Hope stitches the wound with a fine medical suture. 

"You're _really_ pretty," he gives her a toothy grin, his speech slow and deliberate. "Like, you're _really_ pretty for a doctor," he continues, stealing a glimpse of her name on her work tag - _Hope Van Dyne_. 

A ghost of a smile twitches at the corner of her lips. Hope is not sure if she should take it as a compliment or an offense because the statement could go both ways. But, she's had more flirtatious, lewd comments thrown her way before, so this is nothing she couldn't handle. 

Still, she pretends not to hear him, because she knows better than to take a drunken man's words seriously. 

"I bet you've heard it a million times though," he chuckles. 

"Mr. Lang, if you could please stay still." 

"Scott. It's Scott."

"So, what happened?" Hope asks, even though she's unsure if he could even remember the events that had transpired his visit to the ER at this ungodly hour. 

Scott mutters a reply that Hope can't quite hear. 

"I'm sorry?" Her hands are moving deftly, but she's all ears. 

"I drove a car into a swimming pool," he mumbles, ears tinged pink in embarrassment. 

Years of being in the medical profession, she has come across plenty of silly and ridiculous situations that her patients would get themselves into, but this is a first. Hope swallows down the beginning of a laugh, trying her level best to be professional. This explains why he is soaking wet, and his split eyebrow was probably inflicted by an impact against the steering wheel. 

"You couldn't find _anyone_ else to swim with you?" Hope jokes, albeit a bad one. 

Scott barks out a laugh, and Hope thinks his smile is rather charming as the corners of his eyes crinkle in laughter. "I would have asked you if you were there," he replies cheekily. 

"I don't go swimming with my patients," Hope smirks, "and you shouldn't even be swimming when you're drunk." 

"What about a drink or two?" 

"You're drunk," she responds, ignoring his advances. 

"Doesn't mean I can't ask you out," he grins. 

"Do you flirt with all your doctors, Mr. Lang?" Hope quirks a brow. 

"Only the incredibly attractive one, which is you." 

Hope shakes her head, biting back a small smile, not noticing how Scott is enraptured by her smile that's bracketed by her dimpled cheeks. She wonders if he is really, truly drunk to be passing off comments like these. Finishing the wound with a plaster on it, and after a thorough examination, she concludes that besides the slight concussion, he is otherwise fine. She prescribes him pain killers, advises him on a list of symptoms to watch out for which she thinks he might possibly ignore, and sends him out. 

"Hey, what about that drink?" Scott turns around, stops her in her tracks. "Just a thank you for stitching me up." He tries his luck again. 

She gives him a firm look with an answer ready at the tip of her tongue. "You could thank me by not drinking and driving again. You're lucky you didn't drown. And, Mr. Lang, I don't go out for drinks with my patients." 

"Even if they're good looking?" 

"Definitely a no then," she replies flatly.

... 

A week passes. Hope has completely forgotten about the patient who had drove a car into a swimming pool until she feels a pair of eyes burning a hole against the back of her head, Peter following cautiously behind her. 

"Yes Peter?" She turns abruptly on her heels to face him, her eyes flickering to the chart he's holding against his chest. 

He backs away a little, averting his gaze. Peter thinks Hope is both intimidating and beautiful at the same time, especially when she smiles because her face seems to radiate sunshine. But, also, she might be the most brilliant doctor he has ever got to work with, already making a name for herself for being the youngest doctor to graduate from medical school. 

"Uh, Dr. Van Dyne, remember that weird, drunk man, who won't stop talking? He's back," Peter gestures to one of the rooms behind them. 

"Which one?" Hope feigns innocence. In her defence, there were a few encounters with drunk men last week in the ER. But of course she remembers that particular patient who had attempted to make a move on her, despite her rejections. But she's not going to tell Peter that. 

"The man who drove a car into a swimming pool," Peter continues, hoping to trigger Hope's memory. He grips the patient's chart tighter, and Hope has an inkling that it belongs to that man. 

"Oh right, what about him?" 

"He's asking for you." 

"Tell him I'm busy," she shrugs. 

"But I...I promised him that...that you'll be seeing him," Peter's voice trails softer and smaller and he feels himself shrink under Hope's glare. "Please?" he smiles sheepishly, handing out the chart. 

Hope thinks Peter is lucky because she's taken a liking to him, though he owes her so many favours now. She takes the chart from him, and he's out from her sight in a second, leaving Hope to wonder what had just happened. 

"I see you've got yourself checked in again, Mr. Lang," Hope comments in lieu of greeting as she enters the room, flipping through the chart, not looking at him. But when she does, she stops and stands still, taking a good look at him. His hair seems to be wet again. However, this time, he is sitting over the length of the patient's bed, one of his sweat pants legs rolled up to the level of his knee, revealing a swollen ankle. 

He doesn't seem to be drunk. 

"Another swimming accident?" Hope smirks. 

"Ha ha," Scott laughs humourlessly, despite being extremely delighted to see her. "Believe it or not, I fell in the bathroom while trying to fix the shower head." 

"Did you hit your head?" Hope enquires while inspecting his forehead for visible bruises. There seems to be none. 

He shakes his head. "Hurt my leg instead," he grimaces. 

"I can see that." 

"Hey, do you know what else did I fell over for?" Scott asks in between hisses of pain while she gives him a few instructions to move his ankle. 

Hope frowns. She is absolutely sure he is about to toss a cheesy pick-up line. "What?" She sighs. 

"You," and his silly grin is back. 

If he wasn't her patient, she would have hit him with the chart. Ignoring him, she performs a few quick tests, all while trying to ignore his innuendo filled, flirty puns. 

"Is it broken?" Scott asks when Hope scans through his X-rays. 

"Fortunately, it's not. It's just a sprained ankle," Hope concludes. 

"It sure does feel like it's broken. Looks like it's broken too." 

"Well, if you can move it, it's not broken," she explains patiently with a small smile. Once again, she sends him off with prescriptions of pain killers, advises for nursing a sprained ankle, and well wishes, hoping he will never come back again. 

Before he gets wheeled out in a wheel chair, "If you don't do drinks, what about coffee?" He looks at her eagerly. 

"I think it's best if you don't overexert yourself Mr. Lang, don't want you to have another sprained ankle again," Hope chuckles softly. "And I don't go out with guys who are accident prone," she adds wittily. 

"That's judgemental." 

"Take care Mr. Lang," she waves him off. 

... 

One evening, a patient's chart gets handed to her by Carol Danvers, her fellow colleague and best friend. There's a familiar teasing smile on her face, and Hope is certain that she is up to no good. 

"What's this?" 

"Oh, you'll see," she throws her arm around Hope, anticipating her response. 

"Really? This guy again?" Hope groans as she reads through the chart. 

"Seems like someone's got a crush," Carol eyes her suspiciously, the silly smile remaining, "apparently, he's been referring to you as the _pretty_ one with the dimples," her smile turns into a full blown delighted cackle. 

Hope rolls her eyes. "Wait, how did you know?" She should't be surprised, rumours travel fast in the hospital. 

"Parker," Carol gestures to Peter, who's standing beside the counter, holding in laughter till his shoulders are shaking. 

Hope shoots Peter a glare, and he freezes, glancing at her furtively. 

"Why don't you take this one for me?" She pushes the chart back to Carol with pleading eyes. 

"Uh, no. He's not my type." 

Hope glances at Carol's engagement ring, already engaged to her long time girlfriend. Forever the loyal one. 

"He's waiting for you," Carol nudges her in the elbow, not making any effort to contain her laughter. 

... 

He waves at her goofily when she draws away the curtains, and she isn't lying that it shocks her to see him holding an ice pack against a bloody nose and sporting a beginning of a black eye. This time, she's _actually_ worried, though she has no idea why. 

"Hi," his voice comes out nasally and watery, as he takes a tissue paper that's been handed to him. 

"What happened this time?"

She vaguely makes out the words 'bastard', 'robber', 'old woman', with his oddly nasally voice and assumes that he had a run in with a daylight robbery that had happened right in front of his eyes and decided to be a hero about it. 

"Can you breathe through your nose?" She asks as she instructs him to tilt his head back to examine him, and he groans in pain when she presses his nose. His nose doesn't seem to be deformed nor deviated, and the bleeding seems to have stopped. 

"Am breathing just fine," he gives her a thumbs up, "though I think there's something wrong with my eyes." 

Her brows furrow in concern. "Is it blurry?" 

"No. I just can't seem to take my eyes off you," he grins, and Hope wants nothing more than to wipe that stupidly charming smile off his face. It's amusing at how he's able to come up with flirty remarks despite the pain. 

"You can't seem to stay out of trouble Mr. Lang," she says smugly. 

"Trouble seems to like me," Scott quips. "What about you? Have you taken a liking to me?" 

She stares at him, incredulous, even though her heart skips a beat. 

...

"I can't sleep." 

It's been a long day, and Hope's about to collapse on her two feet, but here he comes along, all bright-eyed and wide grin. She sighs, exasperated, "that's not a reason to visit the ER." She can't believe he wasted precious hours waiting in line just to tell her this. 

So, she gives him a list of good sleeping hygiene practices and sends him off. 

"But don't you wanna know why?" He says before he leaves. 

_Here he goes again. _

"Because I can't stop thinking about you." 

Hope is tempted to throw a book at him. 

...

"I think I swallowed a fish bone." 

"You think?" Hope has pretty much given up on hiding her sarcasm. She has forgotten how many times she has seen him in the ER in the past few weeks, certainly far too many times for a normal person. She almost wants to write him a referral to the Psychiatry Department for his 'illness anxiety disorder', but she knows that he's just purposefully conjuring up imaginary ailments from thin air. 

She needs to put a stop to this ridiculous situation because it's scaring her. It scares her that he seems to be growing on her. Seeing him seems to be the highlight of her chaotic, adrenaline pumping day. 

She's falling into his trap. 

"I think I might have ate a little_ too _fast." 

"Just a little?" Hope raises a brow in question.

"Hey, blame Luis," Scott drops a name that Hope has not heard off, "he was the one who suggested an eating competition." 

She wants to hit him in the head for his reckless behaviour, "you're a child," she sighs.

...

The next time he visits, it takes her by surprise when she sees him carrying a child, who looks about six to seven years old. Hope doesn't remember seeing a wedding band on his ring finger before, and nor has he mentioned about having a wife or a daughter. But why should he? Hope chides. He certainly wouldn't flirt with her if he's married, right? 

A sheepish smile breaks on Scott's face when he turns around to face Hope, and she wonders if he can read her mind or did her wide eyes betray her. The first thing Hope notices is the stain of tears marking the little girl's face, and the bundle of bandages around her hand. Scott brings the little girl to the consultation table, and settles her down on the chair, but he never leaves her. 

"She shut her hand in the car door," Scott explains before Hope could elicit any further history. 

"Is she your daughter?" Hope asks, rearranging her expression to something unreadable. 

Scott nods and there's a sinking feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. "She stays with my ex-wife. I have her during the weekends," he clarifies quickly.

There's an odd relief as soon as she hears it and Hope stares at him a little bit longer, realising that his eyes are a similar shade of green as hers. Scott's expecting her to come up with a witty remark, and in truth she really wants to say _I can't believe you have a child because you're a man-child yourself_, but it's highly inappropriate. He seems less chirpy today, anxiousness marring his face.

"Why don't you let me take a look at your hand sweetheart," Hope nudges her softly. 

The little girl complies easily and Hope unwraps the bandage gently. It isn't a pretty sight. A few of her fingers are swollen with some signs of early bruising and Hope is pretty sure she will have to remove the badly smashed nail, so she tries her best to distract the little girl. 

"Hey, what's your name?" 

"Cassie," her voice is soft and shy and Hope can see her fighting back tears by the quivering of her lips. 

"That's a pretty name," Hope smiles. 

"I'll have to remove the nail," Hope mouths at Scott as he looks on, brows knitted into a frown. He gives her a nod of approval and Hope prepares the necessities while he diverts Cassie's attention. 

"Hey peanut, wanna go get ice-cream after this?" He smooths his daughter's hair, holds and presses her head close to his chest so she doesn't sneak a peek at what Hope's about to do. It pains him because Cassie is hurt but is calmer now in Hope's cool composure. 

Cassie nods, "but you can't steal my ice-cream this time daddy." 

Hope snorts. 

"What did I say about sharing?" 

It's all over in a few minutes, thanks to Hope's nimble hands and skill, and Hope has to applaud her because Cassie lets out nothing but a soft whimper when Hope injects her finger with a numbing medication. Most children would have thrown a fit and cried buckets. 

"You handled it like a champ!" Scott beams, kissing the top of her head while Hope finishes the dressing for her hand.

"Daddy's right, you're pretty," Cassie blurts with a wide grin, an uncanny resemblance to her father's smile, and Hope is taken aback by her unexpected revelation. 

"Peanut, that's supposed to be our secret!" Scott freezes and it's his turn to blush. 

Hope ducks her head, bites back a smile, her dimples deepening and Scott's heart skips a beat. "So, Cassie, what else did your daddy say about me?" 

Scott whisks Cassie away before she opens her mouth, leaving her in a fit of giggles, and Hope comes to realise that his daughter is just as mischievous as he is.

...

The next day, there's a fresh bouquet of flowers waiting for her in the locker room when she comes in for her shift. No wonder her colleagues and nurses were tossing odd, smiley glances at her when she walked through the ER, making her think there was something on her face. She finds a small note attached to the lovely flowers - a child's handwriting scrawled on it,_ 'Daddy and I says thank you! Will you go on a date with my daddy?' _ with a huge smiley face at the end of it. 

Hope lets out a laugh. The entirety of the situation is unbelievable. 

"Love is in the air," Carol singsongs teasingly when she walks in and catches Hope smelling the flowers. "Go on that date with that poor man already," she remarks to which Hope returns only with a playful chuckle. 

...

"I've been having palpitations." 

"I see," Hope hums in suspicion, glancing at the wall clock, "and you decide to visit the ER at 3 in the morning," she continues in a monotonous tone. 

She wants to tell him off about his misuse of emergencies, that unless he's having chest pains and vomiting and breaking into cold sweats or experiencing an impending sense of doom, he doesn't need urgent care. But she doesn't know how to do that without snapping at him. She's supposed to be polite and friendly and caring. 

Though, at this point, Hope is absolutely sure she is the cause for his deliberate visits to the ER. 

"Just to make sure," Scott flashes a mischievous smile. 

"Make sure of what?" Hope raises a quizzical brow. She interprets the diagnostic test that's been done - it's completely normal. 

"The cause of my palpitations," he stares at her pointedly. 

Hope ignores his burning gaze, and prays hard that he doesn't notice the hot flush that's rising from her neck. "I'm beginning to think that you've been visiting the ER just to see me Mr. Lang," she muses. 

"Well, how about that," Scott crosses his arms across his chest, "I'm busted," he confesses, playfulness simmering beneath his words. 

She needs to put a stop to this, needs to stand a firm ground and put an end to this inappropriate, ridiculous flirting situation that they're having. He needs to stop visiting the ER just because of her. 

"We need to stop meeting like this," is what Hope ends up saying. 

"What do you suggest? That we go on a real date?" He's quick on his tongue that Hope finds it hard to counter-act, even if she is sharp witted herself. 

There's a pregnant pause.

She hates herself when she hesitates in turning him down, because yes, he is absurdly charming, but she needs to, because she can't date patients, or her patient's father. "I, uh..." 

"Wait, before you turn me down again, can I have your phone, please?"

She looks at him, perplexed, but whips out her phone nevertheless and lets him take it. He saves his number in it and returns it back to her. 

"Call me? When you're ready?" His cheeky grin is gone, he is no longer playful and nothing but serious. He knows he's stepping beyond boundaries, but he wants to get to know her, never been so sure of it and because she laughs at his bad jokes despite her consistent eye-roll. 

...

She doesn't call him, but she did tried to text him. 

'Hey, it's me, Hope...' 

'Hey, this is Hope, how is Cassie?' 

'Hi, it's Hope here. It's been a while, I've been thinking, maybe we could get coffee some time?' 

She never sends them out in the end. 

... 

Two weeks later, Peter comes running to her when she comes in for her shift, eyes wide and frenzy. 

"Dr. Van Dyne! There's been an explosion at Vistacorp, they're sending in the casualties right now!" 

The name of the company sounds oddly familiar, and it only rings a bell when, "Isn't that where Mr. Lang works?" Peter adds worryingly. 

Her heart drops as if she's plunging from a roller coaster. 

The emergency siren in the ER goes off, and everyone's already on standby, anticipating the adrenaline packed events that would befall. 

Hope has come to terms with the unpredictable life and death situations she encounters in the ER but it hits differently when it involves someone you know, especially now. Her gaze falls to the first stretcher that gets wheeled in and her heart almost stops when she catches a glimpse of the patient's dark hair. She is never frantic but her stomach turns at the sight, a million of possibilities reeling through her mind. It _isn't_ him when she takes a closer look, and she releases a breath she doesn't realise she's holding. She needs to get a hold of herself. Breathing in and out slowly, she gathers her emotions, calming down and casts away her emotional attachment. She needs to focus, for the sake of her patients. 

A nurse calls for her, and she transforms into work-mode, regaining her composure immediately, but she keeps an eye out for him, if he ever shows up. She prays he doesn't, prays he escapes, prays he doesn't get caught under a rubble. 

Until he walks in the ER, seemingly unscathed, supporting a fellow limping colleague, and she passes by the entrance of the ER for the millionth time at the same time. 

Their gaze lock on each other. 

A wave of relief washes over her when she sees him standing in the midst of the organised chaos, ashen-faced, face dirty with black soot, dark hair sticking out at odd ends. Most importantly, he doesn't seem to be hurt. _He's okay. _

Time stands still, and the whole world stops into a blur. 

And then he breaks into that charming, lopsided smile of his, despite the slight tremble of his lips. Scott waves, says _hey_, but Hope's already running towards him, shoving away the practical part of her brain and follows the voice of her heart instead. Everything happens in a whirlwind next, because she's grabbing his face and kissing him, and everything feels right. She should have done it ages ago. 

Hope pulls away first, with Scott's hands still on her arms, and the softness of his lips still lingering on hers. 

"You're okay," she breathes, eyes scanning him from head to toe. 

His eyes are wide with wonder, but he's grinning widely till he can't feel his cheeks, "Thought I'd stop by to tell you that I'm okay. Who knows, maybe you'd be worried. Turns out I was right," there's a certain smugness in his tone. 

Hope chuckles at his over the top confidence. 

"You never called." 

"Why don't you let me buy you coffee, when my shift is over," Hope offers. 

"Deal." 

**Author's Note:**

> 'Tis but a one-shot, fun AU. 
> 
> And no, I do not advocate flirting with your doctors, no matter how hot they are. (; 
> 
> Come find me on Twitter @shutterbug89


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